The sun was slowly creeping up, and the morning star still shone brightly across the entire eastern horizon. Birds harmoniously recited their usual morning glory. It was a day blessed by the Maker; the flower petals were conspicuously visible even from afar. Indeed, the morning was bright, bearing all the signs of profound peace. Below, the river flowed swiftly across the plains, water hitting the banks of the lowlands with a quick splash. That sound signaled that the dry season was still far off. A farmer walked past, equipped with his machete and hoe, ready for the routine.
Jez's destiny, however, was traced back to this very morning—the moment his life turned from the real to the fantastical. The memory of that vivid day seemed sharp to his now old, forgetful mind as he reminisced about the flaws that had brought him to this prison-like vicinity.
"I am tired of this. I'm going to taste both of what the world has cooked for me. You know what? I'm gone. Don't look for me. I want freedom, and I want it now."
These words—the exact words that changed the destiny of a strong, energetic person to ultimate misery—still gave him visible goosebumps. Jez had said this to his mother before leaving, without even finishing school. His mother had stared at him as he packed his belongings and set the ball rolling toward the city. Jez reminisced on this now, lying on the hospital bed. There was no hope in sight, no help from even close friends. That blissful day had turned into the stepping stone toward the agony he now knew all too well.
Yes, humanity is doomed. The earth is old enough for judgment, yet the reality is that the very people who breathe this oxygen are beyond saving. Humanity is afflicted with an ailment worse than cancer—a sickness that requires power beyond human reach to heal. The earth is tired of carrying people who cannot even carry themselves. Day by day, it dawns with a shocking incident that leaves those same people shocked.
If the clock were to be rewound, would humanity choose peace over war, or good relationships over chaos? No one can unravel that, as we are all fighting wars that were never ours, constantly seeking approval from the same jealousy-invested minds. Jez, now sagely imbued with wisdom, recited this to himself, though it had taken a long, agonizing time to learn.
Jez started his journey to look for a freedom that couldn't be found in books, ready to be consumed by the hungry earth and its perverse minds. Jed, Jek, and Jez—this was the team that would sail to the city to see for themselves what the world was preparing. Whether it was mouth-watering food or foul waste, they were ready to take it. Pride was at its peak; the declaration phase hadn't even started. The plan was simple: to thrive and become the most famous men in the city. They had little knowledge of the metropolis, but they were ready to maximize its possibilities to the fullest.
The clock is a magic instrument that guides all of humanity. Life for the boy child is in a sympathetic mood. Boy child, rise and reclaim your rightful position. The clock is still ticking; every second is a delay for one waiting for the "right time." Jez chose quick bliss over prolonged peace and prosperity; his fate was decided by himself. His companions are now rooted in far more psychotic and complicated vicinities, where mere survival is the main aim. The sweet, spherical earth keeps revolving and rotating, trying to keep its constituents comfortable enough to thrive.
The cold, brisk breeze hovered swiftly across his skinny, skeleton-like body, and goosebumps appeared, stretching his already taut skin. Melancholic tears flowed down his rough face. Humanity was busy fighting for their lives; every minute, a human being lost their precious gift from God. Jez quivered like a chameleon on a fragile twig. Yet, the past haunted him, much worse than the scary present.
"I must re-educate humanity. Though I was the worst father, let me be an example to anyone who wants to be the head of a family. I chose the wrong path; my friends were the worst companions—they turned my focus, and I followed without a 'no.' The world is full of weak men, sick with the lust of their eyes and the need for endless validation. Who will stand tall enough to bend the tall giraffe in the countryside? Who is tall enough to speak to the few who can still be redeemed? This age is about to end; there are no more real miracles, as only deceit thrives in the mouths of even religious people. I did all that, and the only prize I got was limited access to see my children and restricted breaths of fresh, natural air. I am confined in a prison that I can't escape.
"I won't stop until the nurse writes my letters, my final say before the pandemonium breaks loose. Just like a leaf falling from a tree—the very moment it falls, it dirties the ground before it returns nutrients to the plant, and the cycle goes on. I am that leaf. I was intoxicated, but now redemption has finally come. May I recognize the nutrients I still have before I am gone, when only the name remains. What a life I have lived, every side filled with different chaotic and opportunistic possibilities, each claiming the better part of me, because I sailed through both. My circle was sick, and I was a patient without a nurse or any medication—only the crooked world prescribed us medicine based on our sickness."
Jez was full of bitter words as he spoke to himself. He was tired of the endless saga of the life he lived, as all and sundry were busy fixing what wasn't broken, working hard on worthless things, seeking refuge in disrespectful company, crying for help while still able to fix their own broken system, standing tall to be seen by humanity while deep down, reality pierced them relentlessly.
"Rise up. I want to see if you are healing the right way."
The soft, precious voice of the nurse pulled Jez from the nostalgic world of regrets and back into this misery-invested world.
"Oh, Nurse, is it now that you arrive? What about what I told you—my days on Earth are nearing their end, I'm about to vanish from this ruthless earth," Jez said in a weak voice that was nearly fading into silence.
"I will, I promise. One day, you're going to have your will, but don't worry, you are not going to die."
Jez looked up at the nurse, her lips merely glittering, his eyes fixed on her smiling and relaxed face. Memories flooded back to his younger years, to the moment he first saw his wife, Esther.